


Beacon Hills Community Theatre

by hbrooks



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-04-14 15:10:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4569195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hbrooks/pseuds/hbrooks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deucalion is new in town, looking for an answer to his powers. He's joined the local community theatre, directed by Gerard Argent, and backed by Peter Hale.</p><p>Stiles Stilinski's first play will be put on my the Beacon Hills Community Theatre, even though he told Peter not to interfere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Casting

Deucalion stared at the script, like it was something distasteful. Not the best part he’d had, but still, it was something in this god-forsaken cultural sink hole. No Shakespeare in sight at all.

Gerard puttered around on the stage, glaring at the set being constructed in the back. Deucalion hated the old man.

“No! No!” Gerard shouted and waved his arms about. “Beacon Community Theatre has a reputation to uphold. None of this cheesy shit.”

Duke sighed, biting his tongue. The old man wasn’t _wrong_ , per se, but wasn’t right either. This was community theatre, not some grand New York stage—like he was used to.

Gerard sidled up to him.

“I’m glad you decided to join the stage again.” The old man had a gleam in his eye. “I know, I know, this is not your usual romps, but I think you’ll find we put on respectable performances.”

Duke only nodded.

“Yes, yes, my daughter is an excellent player. We’ll start rehearsal when she arrives. Have you had a chance to read the script?”

“Unfortunately,” Duke said, glancing down at the waste of paper in his hand. “I am surprised you changed from something classic to something … less so.”

“Ah, well,” Gerard put on a fake smile. “Peter Hale, one of our biggest donors, has decided that he wanted this particular play. Even said he’d like to make a cameo, hard to deny him when he funds over eighty percent of our budget.”

Duke’s mood soured. “Yes. I understand. I suppose I can make the best of this … material. Who is this ‘Stiles Stilinski’?”

“Sheriff’s boy,” Gerard said, frowning as well. “Not a good playwright, but we’ll be working on the script to make it better as we go along.”

Duke nodded. “Well, I’m glad we agree on that, at least.”

A loud bang drew Gerard’s attention away. Deucalion decided that he didn’t like the Argents at all.

He’d come to this pitifully small town on rumors of the supernatural and he wanted to know more. He had some powers of shapeshifting, claws, teeth, eyes, and unnatural balance and speed. He wanted to know where his powers came from, and after spending almost everything, he landed here. The theatre gig would barely cover his rent, something Kali would chide him about if she were still around. Sisterly love, she’d call it. He’d call it overbearing.

He hadn’t told her about the move.

He read through the first couple scenes while waiting, this time avoiding putting it all into memory. The words would most likely change anyway, and for the better. The script was amateurish at best, childish at worst. This Stiles person must have been barely eighteen. He’d have to check this out. Which meant that Peter and Stiles were either related, or fucking, or God-forbid both. He never put such things past small rural towns.

He sighed again, and sat down on the stage lip, and re-read his part. Playing the villain was always his favorite, and this time, he’d been given the character of Hamilton Monroe, kid probable looked up some old presidents, the mayor of small-town Lighthouse Vale. Not original, he thought, naming the place so it’s basically the same as Beacon Hills.

The character himself wasn’t so bad. Had some decent motivations: greed he could work with, cronyism he’d done hundreds of times, and of course, his least favorite, evil. He’d done that enough with villains, and wanted another angle. Hamilton Monroe seemed the type to not be inherently evil. He’d have to come up with a plausible backstory on his own. The kid probably had no idea what backstory meant, let alone come up with a decent one. Probably watched too many Disney movies as a kid.

He checked his watch and noted the time. He needed to get out of this crappy theatre and grab a drink—a celebratory drink. He was, after all, in a new play.


	2. Stiles at Beacon Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles gets interrupted during his writing times.

Stiles sat down at Beacon Coffee, his favorite place to write, aside from his work—even if his dad was never impressed by his work ethic. There was only so much filing he could do anyway.

He couldn’t believe that his play _Upon a Lighthouse Night_ was going to be produced by the local theatre company. He hoped that Gerard Argent, as gross as he was, had picked the play on merit, but Stiles couldn’t discount the possibility of Peter interfering, even when Peter said he wouldn’t.

Stiles didn’t want to think about that right now. He had another script he was working on.

Sipping his mocha, he stared at the screen, then glanced at his notes. He needed a good hook into the second act. Some sort of cliffhanger maybe? He tapped his pen against his notes until a dark shadow came over him.

He looked up from his work. Jackson. Fuck.

“Stilinski,” Jackson said. “Working on another play?”

Stiles took a deep breath. “Yes, but it’s none of your business, now is it?”

Jackson pulled up a chair and flipped it around before sitting and resting his arms on the back. “Funny, it used to be my business. I still remember you forcing me to be in theatre our senior year with you and McCall.”

“I didn’t force you,” Stiles said.

“Well, withholding bj’s is pretty much the same thing,” Jackson looked at his fingernails.

“What are you doing here?” Stiles asked, looking directly into those eyes that he used to love. “Besides talking to me.”

“Getting some coffee.” Jackson gestured around him. “I mean, this is a public coffee shop, so I suppose that’s okay.”

Stiles looked at him. “Of course you can. Just don’t know why you are talking to me.”

“I’m hurt!” Jackson said. “I don’t know why I can’t talk to my ex. Anyway, since I’m _clearly_ bothering you, I’ll go.”

Jackson stood up and Stiles made no effort to stop him. He looked back at his work, and pretended that Jackson was gone until the shadow left after a few awkward minutes.

Stiles breathed in, and typed a few lines of dialogue. Until another shadow interrupted him. He almost didn’t look up in case it was Jackson, but his primitive instincts kicked in.

“Yes?” he looked up to see his former best friend Scott. “Oh, hey.”

Scott sat down in the chair Jackson had vacated just a few minutes before. Well, he obviously wasn’t going to get any work done today with all these interruptions.

“What’s going on? I haven’t seen you for a while.”

“Been busy working,” Stiles said dismissively. “How’s Allison?”

Scott shrugged. “She’s fine.”

It had been, what, just after graduation, when Scott got drunk—how for a werewolf—and knocked him flat on his ass for a good couple days. Scott didn’t remember much, but Stiles just didn’t want to deal with Scott any more. He’d never been that violent before, but didn’t like people questioning his decisions. Nor did Scott really hang out with him anymore. He was invested in Allison, or for the two years they were broken up, Kira. Stiles was over having to deal with all that. The push was just the straw. He only still talked to Scott because they’d been friends for so long.

“Working on something new?” he asked. “I heard your getting a play produced on the stage in a couple months.”

“Yeah,” Stiles said, waving away Scott’s words. Maybe Scott himself. “It’s just the community theatre, but it’s a start.”

Scott checked his phone. “Shit, supposed to meet my mom at work and deliver her a quad Americano.”

“Go go. She’s gonna need it.”

“It was good to see you man,” Scott said. “We’ll have to hang out soon.”

“Okay, we’ll see you later.” Stiles gave Scott and forced half-smile before returning to his work. He pounded out another line of dialogue, but he wasn’t feeling it any more. Instead, he made sure Scott was gone, then packed up his shit, and went outside on the patio to smoke for a minute before heading to shitty studio apartment at the edge of town.

**Author's Note:**

> This came about because Gerard, Deucalion, and Peter are SO DRAMATIC. Anyway, I'll be working on this for a while. Not sure how long it will be.


End file.
